


A Poor Man's made out of Muscle and Blood

by Thunderstorm30



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Alcohol, Anarchy, Big City, Drunken Kissing, Heavy Swearing, Kidnapping, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, night out, not beta read we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:01:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23717845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunderstorm30/pseuds/Thunderstorm30
Summary: “Looking lonely, stranger. Care for company?”“Sure, I could use a drink. Care to pay?”Post-left makes some questionable decisions on a night out.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	A Poor Man's made out of Muscle and Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Had a lot of fun with this, first time and hopefully not my last writing anything Centricide, just a bit of an experiment really? Playing around with these characters and building this world was just kinda fun, not a lot to work with though cause Jreg is, kinda vague on the details. Just more room for me to build I 'spose. 
> 
> Although the pronouns were a pain, I wrote he first and then que just to make it easier for myself, if i missied any please let me know!

The night was chilly, the moon was out, and the air smelt like rain, the lights of the city bounced off his path. The city was quiet, apart from the occasional passing car, or a stray animal toiling through an alley. The ground was wet, papers and cigarettes soaked and smudged into the pavement under hundreds of footsteps. 

Que hadn’t been able to sleep, cooped up in the dark of ques apartment, que’d originally just planned to grab something overpriced from the vending machine. Of course, que wasn’t going to pay for it, what was que, an animal? Unfortunately, the can of coke had miraculously managed to wedge itself up further than ques arm could reach, and the open door of the lobby that led out of the yellow haze and into the night was somehow more enticing than getting ques arm stuck for a couple dollars worth of coca-cola. 

So here que was, taking a walk through the night. que was, unfortunately, not in an area that was particularly well known for its nightlife. Sure, the numerous billboards and street lights everywhere remained on, but they simply set the scene for a stage that would never be filled. 

So que just kept on walking through the city of lights, no purpose to be had.

It was an interesting predicament that had found quem in this situation, just weeks ago que’d been an extremist, working to destroy centrism once and for all. 

Of course, que’d fucked up, as que tended to do, and ended up less than quemself. Que retained most memories, but que wasn’t the ideology que used to be. Fuck no. 

Somehow que’d found ques solace in Ancapistan, the rich needed some poor people to step on, and que fit the bill well enough. Ancap didn’t know que was here, ques post-left status had left quem less than recognizable, there was no reason for the man to seek quem out.

Lost in thought as que walked, que failed to notice the increasing hum of people, ques feet had led him towards the city center, where the night was filled with noise, and lights so bright you’d think its day.

No one was dressed up formally, most looked eclectic, and at best, a crinkled suit or two. Que and his damp hoodie fit right in with the crowd. Smells of delectable food wafted overhead, music blasted from stairways, billboards flashing the latest product or movie covered every spare surface, and the sound of buskers filled in any silence left.

Needless to say, the city was **alive**. 

“Looking lonely, stranger. Care for company?”  
Oh great, que was in _this_ part of town. The person called out to them from a dim doorway, back-lit by a soft pink light, overhead a flashing neon sign, reading ƎVE. A nightclub? Que looked around quem, at the nameless faces surrounding quem, the lights and the food and the music. Que didn’t know any of it, and none of it knew quem.

“Sure, I could use a drink. Care to pay?”

* * *

Que was drunk, maybe. Shut up. Que’d had more than a couple glasses of whatever alcohol que’d shoved down his throat. What was it, whiskey, vodka? Something that made ques throat burn, that was for sure. Something that made ques head all hazy, que couldn’t focus on a fucking thing, oh, when did that couch get there?

The guy que’d followed into the club had taken quem behind the counter, and together they’d sat and emptied whatever bottle from the cabinet looked the most expensive. An employee found them after they’d made their way through more than a couple, and the bouncers they’d called over had thrown them out. They were giggling, leaning against each other as they stumbled down the street, the crowd seemed to have settled down as they made their way towards a dingy apartment block, not far from ques own, but different enough that even through the alcohol que knew que wasn’t leading a stranger into ques own home.

Que’d fallen back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. It was leather and cold but worn enough that the smooth fabric underneath was almost comforting. Probably not the couch que should be passing out on, but it would do. 

And oh? When had he got there? The guy he’d spent the past couple hours getting drunk with was pinning ques arms above ques head, and suddenly, lips against ques, wow, that felt pretty good. He tasted like alcohol, but que supposed que didn’t really care, the distraction, the company, it was nice. 

Que reached his hands around the stranger's sides, the kiss deepened, tongue getting slightly invasive in his mouth. They pushed into each other, trying to get as close as possible. Their bodies interlocked as best as they could, it was kinda clumsy, and they both smelt like shit, and the couch was too narrow for them to move around much, but by god was it working.

They broke for air. 

“Bedroom?”  
“Bedroom.”

They were a hot mess as they, still interlocked, and still incredibly drunk, moved up from the couch and down the hallway. Que wasn’t entirely sure which room they were heading for, but the stranger seemed to know where he was going despite their faces once again being interlocked. God, when had kissing ever been this good before? The memory that immediately came to mind was shoved down as the tongue of his partner reached slightly further back than que was comfortable and he had to suppress a gag. Jesus, how long was this man's tongue?

Finally, god it felt like it had taken forever, que felt ques side hit the mattress. Que was rolled onto ques back, and yet again que found ques wrists pinned above ques head. The bed provided significantly more room than the couch, a considerable improvement. Que didn’t really care how much further they got, just this was good for now. 

The stranger broke the kiss yet again, making eye contact down at quem, a grin spread across the strangers face. A face que hadn’t placed to memory and was sure que would have forgotten by morning.

“Ya know, this was almost too easy. I didn’t really believe him when he said who you were, but damn you’re one horny bitch, huh? I’m gettin good money for this, queer.”

Que barely had time for the words to process, or the fear to spike through quem before que’d been flipped on his front and ques hands were zip-tied.

“WHAT THE HONEST TO GOD FU-” ques scream was muffled by the cloth shoved in ques mouth and tied behind ques head. The alcohol was still heavy, the situation was jarring to the comfortable unfamiliarity minutes before.

Ques ankles were zip-tied, Jesus that must have been a big zip tie, and then yet again que was flipped over onto ques back. God this was fucking disorienting, although que supposed that was the whole ass point of it all. 

“Now we’re gonna have a nice nap, and by the time you're up, I’ll have my cash, and you’ll be on your way!” the guy seemed enthusiastic about this, goddam fucking nazi. 

The whole ‘nap’ part didn’t really hit quem, until, well, the pillow hit quem. Que struggled for a bit, despite ques bindings, eventually passing out from lack of air. 

All que’d wanted was a goddam can of coke.

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna write a short second chap for this later tomorrow, and then I'll be done with this lmao. Hope you enjoyed it I guess?


End file.
